It amazed her to realize how much Carly was like her father, particularly in ways that she would have assumed were learned behavior. Like the aversion to cauliflower, and the fondness for maple syrup. Apparently the MacIver genes were stronger than she'd given them credit for.
"Nic?" Colin said.
"What?"
He shook his head and leaned across the table to pile three pancakes on her empty plate. He started to tip the bottle of syrup, but Nikki snatched it from his hand.
"I'll do it."
He knew his way around a kitchen, Nikki decided after the first bite. It was something she hadn't known about him when they were married. Or maybe he hadn't learned to cook until later.
She cut another wedge of pancake. It would be easy enough to get used to this special treatment, to imagine finding him in her kitchen every morning, and in her bed every night. She swallowed, but the pancake seemed to lodge in her throat. She picked up her mug and gulped down a mouthful of coffee.
No, she was not going to start envisioning a long-term future with Colin. She couldn't risk her heart and her dreams again.
"I'm all done, Mommy." Carly wiped the syrup off her face with a paper napkin.
Nikki glanced at her daughter's empty plate. Carly was obviously feeling better today. "Did you have some juice?"
Carly nodded. "Apple. Can me an' Auntie Arden go now?"
"After you brush your teeth."
"'Kay." She hopped down off her chair. "Do you want to come with us, Uncle Colin?"
Nikki had opened her mouth to decline her daughter's invitation before she realized it hadn't been issued to her. She snapped her jaw shut, vaguely registered the sound of Colin's voice as he responded to the question.
It was ridiculous to feel hurt, she chided herself. It wasn't as if she wanted to go out with Arden and Carly, but that wasn't the point. The point was that Carly had always included her, but this time she'd chosen to invite Colin instead.
Nikki drained the last of her coffee then pushed away from the table and carried her dishes to the sink. She was being childish and irrational, and she knew it. But she'd been the center of Carly's world for so long, and she hadn't been prepared for that to change. Not yet. She felt as though her role had been usurped by Colin, that she'd been replaced in their daughter's affections. And Carly didn't even know that he was her father.
When they told Carly the truth, would she choose to be with Colin instead of Nikki? And what if Colin decided to leave Fairweather? What if he had a chance to coach again? Would he want to take Carly with him?
She didn't think he'd be able to, not without her consent. But what if Carly wanted to go?
"Nic?"
She started. "Sorry. Did you say something?"
"Are you okay?"
She forced a smile. "Fine. Why?"
"You looked kind of … panicked."
That wasn't surprising, considering that she was feeling kind of panicked. But she wasn't prepared to share her fears and insecurities with Colin. She wasn't sure she could trust him not to take advantage of the situation.
"I'm a little worried about Carly," she said instead. "I really think it would be better if she stayed home today."
"Whatever she had was probably just a twenty-four-hour bug that's run its course."
She frowned. When had he become such an expert?
"You can make her stay home," Colin said. "But she won't appreciate it."
Nikki sighed, knowing it was true. "Did you set this up?"
Colin shook his head as he nudged her aside to pour dish soap into the basin and turn on the water. "Not that I'm complaining about being left alone with you, but no, I can't take the credit for it." He left the faucet running and reached for the knot of her belt. He tugged on it, pulled her closer. "But I had decided that I wasn't going to give you too much time or space to think about last night."
Nikki wished he'd at least give her enough space to breathe. She couldn't think when he was crowding her, and judging from the gleam of satisfaction in those dreamy green eyes, he knew it. Damn him. Her blood started to hum, her pulse to race, and her concerns about their daughter were pushed to the back of her mind.
"Are you wearing anything under this excuse for a robe?"
She swallowed. "Of course, I am."
He slipped open the knot, parted the fabric and found the thin silk chemise. "You wear something like that to sleep alone?"
"It's comfortable," she said, all too aware that she sounded defensive.
He pulled the robe together as the sound of footsteps descended the stairs. She grasped the belt and knotted it.
"We'll be gone most of the day," Arden said as she helped Carly tie her shoelaces.
Nikki shook her head. No one could ever accuse Arden of being subtle. But she knew her cousin's intentions were good. She gave Carly a quick hug and a kiss. "Don't eat too much popcorn."
"Don't nag." Arden said, ushering Carly out the door.
"Now that you have the morning free, what do you plan to do?" Colin asked, brushing his lips down the column of her throat.
Nikki shivered and stepped away from him. She feigned a yawn. "I think maybe I'll go back to bed."
"Is that an invitation?" Colin stepped forward, bridging the distance she'd put between them. He opened her robe again, skimmed his hands from her waist to the hem of her chemise.
"No," she told him. He slid his hands under the silky fabric, up her thighs. Her breath hitched. "Maybe."
Colin grinned and lowered his head to cover her lips, while his hands continued to move upward, doing all kinds of wonderful things to her body.
"Yes?" he prompted, brushing his thumbs over the peaks of her tightened nipples.
"Yes," she agreed breathlessly.
Wednesday afternoon, Colin met Dylan Creighton for coffee at a little café downtown.
"You didn't tell me you were staying with your ex-wife," Dylan said, when Colin slid into the booth across from him.
Colin also hadn't told Dylan to keep his visit between them, and he mentally cursed himself now for the oversight. If Nikki had even an inkling of his suspicions, she would be furious with him. And rightly so.
"Did you go to the house?"
The quick shake of Dylan's head alleviated his immediate concerns. "I drove by," he said, "but opted not to stop in when I saw Nikki outside."
"I appreciate your discretion."
Dylan nodded. "She had a little girl with her. Yours?"
Colin couldn't help but smile. "Yeah."
"Cute kid."
His smile widened. "Yeah," he said again.
"Looks just like her mom."
Colin chuckled at the good-natured gibe. "Lucky for her, she does."
"I take it Nikki doesn't know you came to see me?"
"I thought I'd wait to see what you turned up on the owner of the car before I sent her into a panic." And before she sent him packing, which she would undoubtedly do if she suspected he'd been followed to Fairweather. Not that Colin could blame her. She'd expressed concerns right from the beginning, and he'd discarded them.
Now he'd know if that had been a mistake. "What did you find?"
Dylan grinned. "A terrified eighteen-year-old kid who thought I was going to haul him off to jail."
"I take it you didn't."
"Nah."
"He wasn't following me?" Now Colin really felt like an idiot.
"He was following you," Dylan said, "trying to work up the nerve to approach you for an autograph."
"You're kidding?" The sense of relief was almost overwhelming.
His former teammate grinned. "Not at all. In fact, he's waiting outside in his car, hoping to meet you."
Colin chuckled again. "Tell him to come in."
Dylan walked out of the coffee shop, returning a few minutes later with a tall, skinny kid whose face was almost as red as his hair.
"Colin, this is Eddy Luchyshyn. Eddy, meet Colin MacIver."
"It's a pleasure to meet you,
Eddy."
Colin wouldn't have thought it was possible, but the kid's face flushed even deeper. "M-Mr. MacIver."
"Eddy saw you play against the Flyers nearly a dozen years ago," Dylan explained on behalf of the tongue-tied teenager.
"Did we win?" Colin asked.
"Five-two," Eddy said solemnly. "You scored two goals."
"You've got a great memory."
The kid beamed proudly. "It was the first game my dad ever took me to."
And it had obviously meant a lot to Eddy. As it would have meant a lot to Colin to have shared such father-son moments with his own dad. But Richard MacIver had always been too busy to make time for his sons, too important to care. Colin pushed the resentment aside.
"Do you go to a lot of games?" he asked.
"We used to go to a few every year. But it's the first one I remember most clearly."
Colin knew what he meant. He understood the importance of firsts: the first time he'd put on his Tornadoes jersey, his first NHL goal, his first play-off game. And Nikki—his first love. The one woman he'd never forgotten; the woman he still loved.
He forced his attention back to the young man in front of him. "Are you still a Flyers' fan?"
The spark in Eddy's eyes dimmed a little. "I didn't really follow the team this year … after my dad got sick."
"He's in the hospital," Dylan explained, obviously having checked out and confirmed the kid's story.
"I … um … I have the program from that game," Eddy said.
Colin smiled as he took the crumpled booklet from the kid's outstretched hand. It had been a long time since he'd been asked for an autograph, longer still since anyone had looked at him with the kind of admiration he saw in Eddy's eyes. When he'd lost his career, he thought he'd lost everything. He'd loved living in the spotlight, but only now did he realize that he didn't even miss it anymore.
"Would you—would you sign it for me … for my dad, please?" Eddy asked.
"I can do even better than that," Colin told him.
He wasn't sure what compelled him to make the offer, but as he exited the Fairweather General Hospital a short while later, Colin was glad he'd done so.
Robert Luchyshyn had been as thrilled as his son to meet Colin, his enthusiasm barely dampened by the disease that ravaged his body. Bone cancer, Eddy had told him before they entered the room. The doctors expected that he only had a few weeks left to live.
Despite this prognosis, the man had been in good spirits as his wife sat on one side of his bed, his son on the other. And Colin couldn't help but envy Robert Luchyshyn the close bond that he shared with his family. He was a man who'd loved and been loved, and he would be missed deeply when he was gone.
That was the true legacy, Colin suddenly realized. What mattered weren't career accomplishments or social status or money and possessions, but the touching of other peoples' lives and the memories that would remain.
It was something his father had never learned. Or maybe Richard MacIver hadn't cared. He'd made his mark in the judicial community—the respect and attention of his colleagues more important to him than any relationship with his own sons.
There had been a time, not so long ago, that Colin might have been guilty of the same narrow-minded focus. But not anymore.
He'd come to Fairweather to escape the danger stalking him, thinking of nothing beyond that immediate concern. It was only when he'd seen Nikki again that he'd started to question the choices he'd made. Then he'd come face-to-face with Carly, and in that first moment of recognition, everything had changed for him.
His visit to the hospital only served to remind him of the importance of living every moment to the fullest. And he was determined to do just that.
Nikki was in the backyard pulling weeds out of the flower bed when he got home. She was kneeling in the dirt, her denim cutoffs stretched enticingly across her softly rounded bottom, her sleeveless top clinging to the gentle curve of her breasts.
He crossed the yard in a few quick strides and pulled her to her feet.
"Colin, what—"
It was as far as she got before he covered her mouth with his own in a brief but potent kiss.
"What…" She brushed her hair away from her face with the back of her hand, leaving a smudge of dirt on her cheek. "What was that for?"
He rubbed his thumb over the trace of mud. "Because I love you."
Her eyes widened for a second before she schooled her features into a carefully neutral expression. "Have you been drinking?"
"I've never been more sober," he assured her.
She continued to eye him warily.
Colin didn't blame her for her reservations, he just wished he could find some way to get past them.
It had been almost a week since they'd resumed the physical aspect of their relationship, and he'd spent every night since in her bed. Correction: he'd spent part of every night in her bed, but Nikki always insisted that he sleep in his own apartment.
If he'd believed that her concerns about Carly finding him in her bed were genuine, he wouldn't have minded so much. But he couldn't shake the feeling that Nikki was using their daughter as a convenient excuse to avoid the intimacy of actually sleeping with him.
She was more than willing to make love with him. She held nothing back physically, but her emotions remained carefully guarded. Not only was she not willing to open up her heart, she visibly withdrew whenever he tried to tell her how he felt about her. Like now.
But this time he wasn't going to back down. This time, he was going to make her understand the choices he'd made, the regrets that haunted him, and the feelings that were still in his heart.
He led her over to the pair of Adirondack chairs so they could sit down. He had a feeling this could take a while.
"Do you remember when we met?" he asked.
If Nikki was surprised by his abrupt change of topic, she didn't show it. She nodded.
"You were the first therapist assigned to help me with my rehab after a shattered kneecap ended my career—the one bright light in my otherwise dismal existence. And from the first time we met, I knew you would make the difference in my life."
"Obviously we have very different memories of that meeting."
He grinned at her dry tone. "What do you remember?"
"A sullen, temperamental jock who made it clear he wasn't the least bit interested in therapy."
"I wasn't. What was the point when the doctors said I'd never play professional hockey again? "I didn't want the therapy," he admitted. "But I wanted you."
She sent him a look of patent disbelief.
"I did. I even found myself looking forward to the physio sessions, just to see you. I'd never had trouble meeting women while I was playing hockey, but when I lost my career, I lost my identity and my self-confidence."
"You found your confidence again soon enough."
One corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile. "It's a good thing, too," he said. "Because you kept turning me down when I asked you out."
"We had a professional relationship," she reminded him. "Personal involvement was inappropriate."
"Then why did you finally say yes?"
"I felt sorry for you."
Her answer stunned him. "You felt sorry for me?"
She shrugged. "I figured you must have been pretty desperate to keep asking."
"Maybe I was just persistent."
"Maybe."
"Did you marry me because you felt sorry for me, too?"
"No," she admitted after a short hesitation. "I married you because I loved you."
It was what he'd wanted her to remember, but he hadn't expected the memory to make her sad.
He cradled her face in his palms and looked deep into her eyes. "I still love you, Nicole. And one of these days I'm going to convince you of that fact."'
Chapter 13
Two days later, Colin's words continued to echo in her mind. I still love you, Nicole. And one of these days I'm going to convince you of that fac
t.
It wasn't just the words, it was the sincerity in his eyes, the determination in his voice that both thrilled and terrified her.
She wanted to believe that he loved her. She wanted to believe it was possible that he loved her even half as much as she loved him. That was the problem. Because this was exactly how she'd felt when she'd fallen for him the first time.
Okay, maybe not exactly. This time, everything seemed more intense, more real. And that just made it worse. Because this time not only could he break her heart, he could break Carly's too.
Nikki was puzzled as she turned the knob of the back door and found it locked. Then she remembered that Colin had made plans to take Carly to Philadelphia for the day, to visit the children's museum and take in a baseball game. Nikki didn't mind that they'd gone, and she knew Carly was in good hands with her daddy, even if their daughter didn't yet know that Colin was her father.
Nikki's original concern about keeping that bit of information from Carly had long since waned. Colin had more than proved his willingness to share in all the joys and responsibilities of parenthood. He was Carly's father, and he deserved to have that relationship acknowledged.
She slipped her key into the lock and stepped inside. The house was unnaturally quiet without Colin and Carly waiting for her, without the television blaring in the living room. Not peaceful, really, just empty.
She had moved to the refrigerator to consider her options for dinner when she heard a car in the driveway. She peeked out the kitchen window, knowing that Colin and Carly wouldn't be home for hours yet, and still hoping that Colin's Jeep might pull into view.
Instead, it was his brother's Lexus. She fought the surge of disappointment. She hadn't had a chance to visit with Shaun since the night of the clinic fund-raiser, and his company might be just what she needed now to get her mind off her ex-husband.
"Business or pleasure?" she asked, when she met him at the door.
"Both." He kissed her cheek, then handed her a large manila envelope.
"That was quick," Nikki said. "Thanks."
He waved off her thanks. "I aim to please. Although I don't think that's necessary."
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